


Light Breezes

by heartachequisition



Category: Kagerou Project, Mekakucity Actors
Genre: A lot of wishing but not a lot of doing, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartachequisition/pseuds/heartachequisition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were forgetting. Shintaro couldn't blame them really - he knew more than anyone how natural it felt to forget. Yet somehow, this time, it felt worse wishing even for a second that the memories would fade. KonoShin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Breezes

They were forgetting about him. One by one, in their hazy spirited minds, his presence was vanishing. One by one, they were facing forward. Without him. 

Without Konoha.

Shintaro couldn't blame them really - he knew more than anyone how natural it felt to forget. Yet somehow, this time, it felt worse wishing even for a second that the memories would fade. It wasn't the same, remembering, as it was being in the moment. Living in the moment. Being able to touch and see and hear and smell every seam that made up their lives together. All the seams that had been pulled loose. The last threads of that flawless being's existence unravelled, and his own torn up heart unravelled with him.

Looking back now, there were so many things he could've said. So many unspoken words that the young man’s vacant face would never be able to witness. Shintaro was always so good at accumulating regret. He knew there were just so many things he could've done. There were so many times when he could've reached out and swiftly broken that 20cm gap and said - "Hey, Konoha, thank you. For everything you've done. You may be quite a dumbass sometimes but you're definitely, definitely-"

So many things he could have told him.

Yet he didn't.

He felt akin to a child, making the same mistakes over, and knowing well he could avoid it but choosing not to do so.

Shintaro wouldn't ever like the feeling, not anymore, of passing by places they had been together. Glancing in the windows, expecting to see his companion's reflection. Expecting to hear a cracking behind him, where Konoha broke yet another material item with his unrivalled strength. Expecting to hear the soft whine of a person who was always hungry even at the sound of food.

Yet he alone stood staring back. Alone, as he had gotten used to being before, but couldn't ever enjoy again.

It was strange, really. He thought he had liked being alone.

With the places, it was always the memories.

It wasn't any kind of special movement - but he found himself turning, on more than one occasion - and before he realised it, he'd blurt something like "What do you want to so now?" or "Where do you want to go?"

He'd be saying it to nothing. 

Because Konoha wasn't there anymore. When it was with the others; they didn't go to those kinds of places. He loved them, he truly did, and he could finally say so. But always, always; it was never the same. 

Shintaro couldn't teach anyone with such vigour as he did the albino, because others weren't nearly as attentive or sweet. Others didn't hold him with such admittedly cute gestures and such a soft, non-judgemental gaze. Not in the way that Konoha had. 

It wasn't even intentional sometimes. Shintaro couldn't stop himself buying extra food nowadays, and it would take a moment before he realised why.

He could've been a lot kinder to Konoha, and he wished that he was. He could've watched over him. Kept him out of trouble. Kept him from dragging everyone else into trouble.

Been selfish, the way that Shintaro tended to be. To hold onto Konoha as the most important person – as his most important person – but he had never been good at that, had he?

He could've given him the world he deserved and more. Because Konoha deserved a lot more than he got, and Shintaro knew he could've experienced a much better world had he known what would happen to him in the end.

He could've given him the greatest memories of a lifetime. Were they ever even best friends - the kind that look out for each other and tolerate each other's stupidity? Or were they merely fools?

He could've told him before he was gone; that he was the best thing that ever happened to him in this dull, boring life.

Yet he didn't. 

If he was asked "Was it hard?" The answer would be simple.

It wasn't hard to come to terms with it. The fact that Konoha was no longer with them. 

What was hard was hearing his voice, and his footsteps and seeing is smile for that one lingering moment - before realising it wasn't reality anymore. Hard to ignore the way his own eyes would trick him, and he’d believe, truly, Konoha was there watching. But that was impossible.

It was hard to know that he couldn't see that one of a kind star in the sky without closing his eyes. Without dreaming of the what-ifs and the if-only’s and the fantasy world behind closed doors. Without reminiscing, in the hollows of his eyelids, of the days long gone.

Of all that wasn't and all that could've been.

He thought he was sick in the head, but it was only grief. There was no more time for that, though. He was the only one who hadn’t moved on.

So many things he could’ve done.

No, Shintaro couldn't tell him how much light he had brought into his life. He had so many chances to be honest with himself, and so many chances to tell Konoha that he cared.

He could've told him that somewhere in that steel, cold, guarded heart there was a lock. He could've said truthfully then that he, the tall, curious boy with such kind eyes, had found the key.

Shintaro could've stopped being selfish for just a moment to let him know how much he valued spending time with the boy.

He could've done so much more than what pathetically little he did.

Yet he didn't.

He was waiting now, always waiting. Waiting for that glimpse of the male with the white hair that plagued him on the brightest days and raised him in the darkest.

He was constantly remembering what everyone else had forgotten. The gentle smile and the unwavering strength would never leave him. Even when he woke up, the dreams of that boy still rang vivid in his brilliant canvas of a mind.

He was waiting to see him again.

So that he could tell Konoha, that all he wanted now was to hold him in his arms. Smile with him, laugh with him, do silly things and scold him. Then tell him everything was going to be okay.

Do all the things he could've done.

And as a final thought, let words slip through his mouth as effortlessly as the sweat that slicked his forehead in the summertime;

"I love you. It's so goddamn stupid of me, but I can't let you go. I missed you for so long, you wouldn't believe..."

He was waiting for that moment to come, when they'd finally meet again. 

When all the walls behind his eyes would fall down and plummet to his soul where he'd grasp at every chance to cherish his loved one. Every finite, infinitesimally meagre chance.

With all of himself, he wanted to do something right. For once, his pitiful existence could mean the world to someone.

He was simply waiting, and waiting for that moment to come. Those dreams to come true.

To finally meet with Konoha again.

To wake up to that beautiful face, and to kiss that innocence that swept him wholeheartedly away.

He could meet with him, one day, so very far away and they could be together at last.

When he found a way for them to meet again.

If he took a leap forward,

 

If he submitted himself to science,

 

If he struggled with all his might so that they could meet again –

 

They could meet again –  

 

Perhaps in his last breath, they could finally, finally meet again - 

 

Yet they didn't. 

 


End file.
